The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  Lizbeth Hammerstrike turned and walked away.

  Thank God Draka, Adan didn’t follow.

  ****

  “What the petrified jam between the toes of a troll trollop tap-dancing on a keg of stale beer were ya thinking, lad? She’s ya wife, ain’t she? Ya gotta show her who’s boss. Go get her, take her ta yare room, and have ya way with her. It’ll put a smile on her face. Trust me, I know women.”

  Adan stared at his almost-bald gnome friend with the bulbous nose and overly large ears. “You have a blow-up doll tucked under your arm, Leeky. Forgive me if I’m just a tad leery about taking advice on my love life from you.”

  Leeky Shortz blustered. “Ya can think what ya want about me and Miss Bunny here, but I’m not the one having lady troubles. Miss Laycee Titwilder is more than willing ta be sharing my bed. Even if it does get a bit crowded once ya throw my very talented Miss Bunny and Laycee’s useless Tug McGroin doll inta the middle of it. If ya ain’t gonna take her ta yare room and do her, then at least buy her a present. All lasses like doodads, no matter how stubborn they are. I even have a couple suggestions for ya if ya want.”

  Adan shook his head. “Oh, no, thank you. I’ve seen your idea of gift giving, remember? You gave Laycee a cucumber when we were leaving on Sarco’s quest last year and told her to use it on herself as some kind of sick sex toy and then eat the disgusting thing in her salad when it started to get mushy.”

  Adan shuddered. “I’ve known Laycee practically all my life, remember? She was governess to my sisters before they wed. It was a very disturbing sight when you gave her that…that vegetable. I’d rather not scare Lizbeth more than she already is until we’ve been married at least a week or so, if I can help it.”

  Leeky had the grace to pinken. “Well, Laycee liked her cucumber, and there’s nothing wrong with a gift that keeps giving.”

  The sound of choking coming from the other side of the desk didn’t concern Adan. Instead, he scowled at his brother-in-law. “Trust me, it’s not that funny.”

  Sarco wiped a tear from his eye, coughed, and smiled. “It’s pretty funny, you’ve got to admit. Didn’t you tell me just a week ago Lizbeth was going to be like putty in your hands? Pliable, that’s what I believe you called her. Oh, and wasn’t it Lackluster Lizbeth you nicknamed her?”

  Sarco grinned. “I distinctly remember you complaining about being saddled to a woman with no personality and how you’d never have another moment’s peace with her following your every footstep and catering to your every whim. Now you can’t even get her to share your bed? It seems the mighty prince of the barbarians isn’t the great lover he boasts of being, after all.”

  Adan threw up his hands. “Where did you say my sister went? I need to speak with an intelligent adult.”

  Sarco Sunwalker continued to smile. “Lark is setting up a wizard’s class for me right now. My wife is also my apprentice, remember? Some people actually work for a living around here. I’ll be sure and tell her you wish to speak to her about how to get your lackluster little wife under control when she gets back.”

  Sarco almost fell out of his chair laughing.

  Adan didn’t think it was funny. He closed his eyes, folded his arms, and shook his head.

  The sound of Sarco clearing his throat caught Adan’s attention, and he opened one eye. Though his friend still had a wide grin on his face, there was also sincerity shining in his eyes. “I truly am sorry for your trouble, Adan. The biggest problem I see is your relationship with your wife has no middle. You said yourself you hadn’t seen her for ten years before yesterday. You met as children, went your separate ways, you married, the end. Where is the romancing and falling in love part? Where is the excitement? Women like that kind of thing. They tend to feel cheated without it.”

  His smile faded. “Even a woman who was forced to learn what you do with your toenail clippings wants to be pursued. Maybe even more so because of that. And what do you know about her? Do you even know what her favorite food is, or color or places to be kissed?”

  Adan sighed. “I shouldn’t have to woo my own wife. Arranged marriage means you get to skip that part. She knows I’ll do my duty by her. I know everything I need to know about her. I know we’ve been promised to each other all our lives, and I know it’s our responsibility to live together and produce an heir.”

  Sarco chuckled but the sound of it held no humor. “If all you want out of marriage is the fulfillment of a cold, loveless contract, then you’re right. You don’t need to get to know her or romance her or sweep her off her feet. But if you want her to want to be in your bed and love you the way only a woman can, then trust me, you’ve got to work at it. It’s up to you, my friend.”

  It was Adan’s turn to laugh. “I’m a Barbarian, remember? Romance isn’t my strong point. We tend to stomp in, wield really big swords, take what we want, and stomp back out. I don’t have the first clue about this wooing stuff.”

  From across the room Leeky Shortz cackled. “Then it’s a good thing ya’ve got us ta help ya, lad, now isn’t it?”

  Adan groaned.

  ****

  Lizbeth couldn’t concentrate. The headache that had been developing even before she’d seen Adan earlier had gotten worse as the day wore on.

  After Spells and Spirits class had come Channeling with none other than Briarlarn Dragonheart as the instructor. Even if Briar hadn’t been the wife of one of Adan’s closest friends, and an amazing healer, Lizbeth would have still been jealous.

  Beautiful seemed a dull word to describe Briar, but beautiful she was. Hair all the shades of red, like a roaring fire, and she wore it in a long braid swinging gently to her waist. Intelligent eyes the exact green of the moss on the forest floor and ears just slightly pointed complemented her pixy-style nose and full lips.

  Quick to smile and friendly, Mrs. Dragonheart was even quicker to explain how channeling worked and how, in the end, not everyone was cut out to be a channeler and some wouldn’t be able to do it at all. Channeling required intense concentration to allow magical energy to flow through fingertips and into an object.

  What were the chances Lizbeth would be magically gifted enough to channel? And if she wasn’t, would she be considered an embarrassment to Adan since Briar was obviously gifted beyond belief?

  Lizbeth regretted not speaking more than five words to the woman yesterday after the wedding ceremony when she’d had the chance. She’d simply been too out of place to talk with anyone, let alone the great healer.

  In hindsight though, it would’ve been nice to ask Briar her opinion on whether she sensed Lizbeth had enough talent to be in her class and also what was the half-elf instructor’s thoughts on arranged marriages.

  There had certainly been no censure in Briar’s gaze yesterday or today, only open friendliness. But then, Briar was a woman who was well aware of her own powers, and her marriage had been a true love match, not a cold, calculated arrangement. She probably hadn’t given Adan’s marriage more than a passing thought, expect perhaps to pity him.

  Even though Lizbeth had come from a small village, she’d heard the stories of the deep love between the healer and her paladin Uthiel Dragonheart, and how, because of their great love, they’d saved a young dragling and solved the riddle hidden in a nine-hundred year old fable. All of Albrath had heard the tale.

  Lizbeth hoped she and Briar would someday become more than simply student and instructor, possibly even friends. And, since Briar was a healer, perhaps she’d be able to ask her about the effectiveness of PDUP spells the morning after the fact and count on her discretion. Or even more importantly, could the healer ascertain if she were now with child? Only time would tell.

  The day dragged on and on.

  Midday meal had been uneventful, and though Lizbeth couldn’t bring herself to swallow much more than a crust of bread, that alone helped settle her stomach and ease the persistent ache in her head.

  Then had come the second half of her first school day and Wizard’s class. Why
had she even signed up for Wizard 101 with Sarco Sunwalker? She didn’t want to be a wizard. She wanted to be an enchanter. The only reason to take wizard class was so she’d become familiar with the implements she’d be trying to imbue with magic. All the staffs, rods, swords, daggers, and wands.

  Lizbeth sighed, sorry yet again she hadn’t thought her plan through as completely as she should have. Couldn’t she have accomplished basically the same thing with a few extra hours in the library without exposing her lack of knowledge of all things magical to, of all people, Adan’s youngest sister Lark?

  She shuddered, and in her own defense knew when she’d selected the wizard’s class, she’d had no idea Sarco Sunwalker even knew Lark, let alone had been about to go on a dangerous quest to win her hand in marriage. It was all very romantic when the minstrels sang about it but, again, it meant Lark probably wouldn’t understand Lizbeth’s reservations about her own wedded unbliss.

  Exquisite, intelligent Larksong Sunwalker, fledgling wizard in her own right, powerful Spirtmaster from birth, was apprentice to her husband, wizard instructor and heir to the Lordship of the Elves, Sarco Sunwalker. A newlywed herself, Lark was now destined to be Sarco’s lady when he took over the rule of the elfin kingdom from his father one day.

  She was a beautiful woman with a curvaceous body, hair the color of warm amber, a mind quick as lightning, and piercing gray eyes that Lizbeth could swear saw directly into her soul. The notion didn’t frighten her as much she thought it would. As a matter of fact, it brought her a strange sense of comfort. And, by the time wizard class finished, Lizbeth had relaxed and enjoyed it.

  Then, finally, she sat in the class she’d been waiting for all day. Lizbeth pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Even her persistent headache couldn’t distract from the excitement. She was actually in Basic Enchanter class with none other than Headmistress Seychelle as her instructor.

  Lizbeth shook her head as she sat staring. She’d heard rumors about the headmistress but thought they must have been exaggerated. They weren’t. Headmistress Seychelle could only be described as coldly beautiful, a true ice princess.

  Well known as not only the headmistress of the Academy, but also as a powerful enchantress in her own right, Seychelle certainly looked the part.

  Dressed from head to toe in black leather, she was a sight to behold. Tall, even for a high-elf, her skin was so pale as to be almost translucent. Her emerald green eyes slanted upward and were fringed in cheek-touching black lashes. Her red lips curved in an almost cruel smile, and when she spoke, her voice, though not loud, held power and demanded obedience. Her crisp, perfectly-pointed ears peeked through a waist-length mass of black, riotous curls.

  The only thing off kilter about Headmistress Seychelle in any way was the strange creature she called Ray, who followed her every footstep.

  He was human, or at least had once been. Now he was just a pathetic pet on the end of a golden chain. Wisps of dull brown hair covered most of his head, and a yellowed tunic covered his skinny body. What was truly disturbing about Ray, though, was what he carried between his teeth like a puppy’s well-loved toy.

  No matter from what angle Lizbeth looked at it, there was no other explanation…it was a dildo. And, not just a dildo, but the biggest, gaudiest, knobby orange rubber example of a dildo she’d ever seen.

  Just when Lizbeth thought the little man couldn’t possibly get any stranger, he walked straight over to her, plopped the slimy dildo right into her lap, got down on all fours, grinned at her with his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Ray loves cock.”

  Lizbeth jumped so quickly her chair toppled with a loud thud. Her heart beat fast and hard, and she almost missed what Headmistress Seychelle was saying because Ray chose that moment to once more scream, “Ray loves cock.”

  The enchanter instructor didn’t even bat an eye. She simply raised her voice and exclaimed louder, “Oh, look, very first day of the semester and Ray has already picked a favorite playmate, our one and only half-elf half-barbarian. Isn’t that precious?”

  She clasped her hands at her waist. “For those of you who don’t already know, Ray was once my very capable assistant before I loaned him out to High Mystic Purrell. One week with that man, and he hasn’t been the same since. All anyone can figure is he must have suffered some kind of traumatic shock. So I take care of him.”

  The headmistress beckoned to Lizbeth. “Go on. Be a good girl now and give him cock, sweetie.”

  Ray jumped up and down, shouting. “Ray loves cock. Ray loves cock. Ray loves cock.”

  Class was abruptly interrupted when, a moment later, Lizbeth not only lost the crust of bread she’d eaten for lunch, but then some.

  Chapter Five

  She wanted sleep. Mind-numbing, no-dreaming, time-stopping, at least seven-turns-of-the-hourglass, undisturbed sleep.

  Lizbeth hadn’t gone to the cafeteria for her end of the day meal or even back to her dormitory to enjoy the camaraderie of her roommates. Instead, she’d gone straight to the library and stayed there hiding and studying until forced to leave because its doors were closing. Food and friendship could wait until tomorrow. Peace was more important. Her stomach growled its displeasure, and she ignored it. She wasn’t willing to face anyone or anything else today.

  The last couple of days had been more than a little trying. First the wedding and the night spent in Adan Hammerstrike’s arms. Then, this morning, she’d remembered she hadn’t cast her PDUP spell and might well be pregnant at this very moment. Not to mention running smack into said potential father here at the Academy where she’d forgotten he might be. It should’ve given her a clue as to how the day was going to go.

  And then to make matters even worse, throwing up in front of her entire enchanter class, and directly on poor Ray’s head, had just put the topper on her first day of classes. How was she to have known he just wanted to play fetch with the disgusting thing? The sound of her fellow students laughing still rang in her ears.

  Hiding away until tomorrow might well be the coward’s way out, but Lizbeth had already gone though her entire week’s allowance of courage. Inside her dormitory, in the middle of her small cot, tucked under the covers, in the dark of the night, was the safest, most normal place in all of Albrath for her to be, and she couldn’t wait to get there.

  Rounding the corner, the faint echo of a familiar laugh reached her ears, and with dread, Lizbeth followed it all the way to her dormitory door. Glancing inside, she cringed and, for a moment, wished she could be anywhere else. There, seated upon her cot, was the very last person she wanted to see tonight, her husband, Adan Hammerstrike. And, he wasn’t alone.

  The prince was surrounded by all eleven of Lizbeth’s dormmates, and the women were gazing at him as if he were a gift straight from God Draka and they couldn’t wait to rip off his wrappings and expose the treats waiting beneath. He at least had the grace to pinken when he looked up and she was standing in the doorway.

  He jumped to his feet, almost knocking over two of the women who’d been practically sitting in his lap. “Lizbeth, my little lizard, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you. Your friends were just entertaining me with all sorts of stories. I thought I’d check and see if perhaps you’d changed your mind about staying here. These beds are kind of small, and the room is cramped. There’s a lot more space in my suite.”

  Eleven women sighed in unison. Four high-elves, two dwarves, three humans, one gnome, and a dark-elf.

  Lizbeth didn’t sigh. She was too angry. A moment later, she got even more upset when the dark-elf female spoke. “Oh, don’t go yet Pooksie-pie, unless you mean to take us with you. We’re just beginning to get to know each other.”

  The indigo-blue-skinned woman with the snow-white hair, who Lizbeth remembered was called Dylin and was here studying to be a healer, licked her full, red lips suggestively.

  Lizbeth glared at Adan. “Pooksie-pie?”

  The pink in Adan’s
cheeks turned bright red as he shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn’t my idea. They all just kind of nicknamed me. Girls. Go figure.”

  Lizbeth brushed past him and made her way to her cot. Tears threatened, but she swiped them away. Dropping her books upon her bed, she turned and faced her husband. “I haven’t changed my mind, and I’m too tired to fight with you tonight, Adan. Just go, please.”

  The stubborn man stood there staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lizbeth rubbed the pounding ache in her temples. It was worse now than it had been all day. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? I really am tired.”

  Adan folded his arms. “I don’t see what there’s to talk about. You’re my wife. You should be in my room, in my bed, not in some dormitory.”

  Eleven women collectively sighed once more. Lizbeth had no doubt that this time it was due to the fact any one of them would have been more than glad to take her place in his bed. She told herself she didn’t care.

  “I don’t wish to discuss this right now, Adan. And I especially don’t wish to discuss it in front of an audience. Please leave.”

  Neither of them got a chance to say another word as a brand-new, high-pitched voice interrupted.

  “Adan Hammerstrike, what are ya doing in my dormitory harassing one of my lasses? I know for a fact ya were taught better than that. Don’t be thinking ya’re too big ta bend over my knee, little mister. I was right in the middle of an important game with Leeky, and it was my roll when I heard a commotion coming from up here. Had the Tug intercom running. Bet ya forgot about that, didn’t ya?”

  The female gnome with an ill-fitting blonde wig upon her head, an unusually large nose, even larger ears, and dressed in a black and white cow costume sat the strange-looking blow-up doll she’d been carrying beneath her arm on the floor. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at the barbarian while tapping her foot.